


Family

by Twele



Series: Changes [5]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Grief/Mourning, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, Irreversible Change AU, M/M, Past Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Steve is dead, billy pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:48:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23864035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twele/pseuds/Twele
Summary: Billy's life living with the Hoppers.Continuing from my Irreversible Change AU.Won't make any sense outside of the series.Thank you anyone who reads!! <3
Series: Changes [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1676743
Comments: 33
Kudos: 34





	1. Hopper

**Author's Note:**

> Getting through these now! ^_^'''  
> Hope people are still enjoying them!! <3

Larry Hughes was a tough old bastard. Billy knew that from the time he’d mistaken the flubbed bill for fixing the Camaro’s windscreen for a wave of the labour cost only to end up with _Neil_ receiving the full bill the next day. In person, Larry was a big bastard; all muscle and scowls. His hair was greyer than you’d expect from someone his age and his heavily-tattooed skin was always a tanned brown regardless of the season. Yeah, Larry Hughes was no joke.

So, when he had to close the auto shop because of him slipping a disc, the people of Hawkins _knew_ it was serious. Billy, in all his insular ‘getting through the days’ mode, was oblivious to the whole situation for the first week. The Camaro was running as she always did and he hadn’t ever been one for town gossip _before_ June 8th. As far as Billy was concerned, he had no business knowing the ins and outs of the auto shop guy’s health.

By the second week, however, Daniel Scott, a junior whose only identifying feature was hair that was a similar shade of red to Max’s, had dinged his dad’s Monza Wagon something horrible and Mrs Driscoll’s old Ford was ‘making a strange noise’. Neither of these problems should have come to Billy’s attention either, to be honest. He never spoke to Daniel and couldn’t pick Mrs Driscoll out of a crowd if she was wearing a t-shirt with her name on it. 

Thing was, _Hopper_ was _painfully_ aware of both of these situations. Having arrested Daniel Scott at the scene for driving under the influence, he had no choice not to and Mrs Driscoll apparently had nothing better to do than call the Sherriff’s Office repeatedly about her car problems. So Hopper knew all too well that Larry being out of commission was not possible in a town with only one auto shop.

And that was how Billy got his ‘summer job’ at the auto shop. Exasperated beyond the point of no return, Hopper had been basically tearing his hair out about it one night at the wobbly dinner table that he, Billy and El gathered around.

“If that old bat calls one more time asking when Larry is going to be opening up again…” Hopper was growling into the mac and cheese that Billy had cooked for them from scratch. He dropped his fork and rubbed his big hands over his face with harsh expulsion of air.

“I could take a look at her car,” Billy offered off-handedly. “Used to work part time in an auto shop back in Cali. And my dad was always getting me to fix his shi-” he stopped himself just in time before cursing in front of El. Now that he was living here, he was trying to keep that shit to a minimum; at least in front of Hopper. “-his _car._ I bet I could get the old girl out of your hair for a little while at least,” he finished, watching as the old man across from him lowered his hand from his face.

“You know how to fix cars?” he asked almost sounding like he didn’t believe him. Billy gave a little shrug.

“I know how to fix _some_ problems with _some_ cars, yeah,” he replied. It wasn’t like he was qualified or anything; wasn’t like Noah had taken him under his wing as his protégé or any shit like that. He’d just shown him the basics and talked him through some of the more advanced shit.

“You know how to fix cars,” Hopper repeated but now it was a statement, sounding more like he was talking to himself than to Billy.

Billy hadn’t thought much of it at the time. They had all gone back to their meal and Hopper had left for a night shift while Billy and El washed the plates and stayed up watching movies. It was only the next day when Hopper was bursting through the hatch into his room, raving about Larry agreeing and Billy starting that afternoon and grousing about how he was still in bed at 10am, did Billy realise what he’d signed up for.

Under both Hopper’s and Larry’s watchful eyes that afternoon, Billy had taken a good, long look at Mrs Driscoll’s car and come to the conclusion that her suspension needed lubricating. Looking over at the grey-haired behemoth, Billy saw his nod of approval.

“Not bad, kid. How do you plan on fixing her up then?” Larry grunted, folding his big arms over his chest and wincing a little from how that must have moved his back. When Billy explained the procedure correctly, the old guy had given him another nod and turned to talk to Hopper. “Your boy’s not totally useless. I could probably use him around here until my back’s back up to scratch.”

“You think?” Hopper asked, looking down at the other man who, Billy assumed, was usually the same height as him, if not taller.

“Wouldn’t be able to pay him all that much, mind. Got Henrietta going off to college at the end of the summer and, my god, the stuff that girl thinks she’ll be needing,” the old man went on but Hopper was waving his hands like there was no need.

“No, no. I get you. It’ll be worth it just to get the shop going again, right Billy?” Hopper was all smiles like _Larry_ was the one doing _them_ a favour.

“Right?” Billy replied because he really didn’t know what else to say.

Larry gave them both a good eyeballing for a second, looking at Billy like he was sizing him up.

“Yeah. Sure. If he can get that suspension sorted before three, I’ll take him,” the old fart sniffed and, once again, Billy felt a little bit like he was property being traded off. There wasn’t that hateful, dehumanising feeling that he’d gotten from Neil in the entranceway to the Wheeler’s place but still… it was something and it was there. 

All the same, he got that Ford lubed up in record time and even drove the fucking thing home for Driscoll. She’d practically dragged his inside for a glass of overly-sweet lemonade and a chat about her deceased husband but then she overpaid him by a good couple of dollars for being ‘such a sweet boy’.

When he got back to the auto shop, Mr Scott’s Monza Wagon was on the ramp and Larry was sleeping in his chair in the back office. For all of Hopper’s ranting about ‘the kid wrapping his dad’s car around a stop sign’, it actually didn’t look too bad on first inspection. The front bumper was all out of whack and the passenger side headlight was smashed to shit but, actually, it didn’t _look_ all that bad.

He might be able to do something with it.

\---

Mr Scott’s Monza Wagon turned into the bane of Billy’s life for a good four days. Every time he fixed one problem, another two seemed to come out of nowhere. He felt like a hero in a Greek myth, constantly chopping off the hydra’s heads only to have them grow right the fuck back again. All the while, Larry was there shouting instructions and curses at him. It got Billy’s back up but, at the same time, really fucking helped.

Billy’s first impression had been right, the old man was a bastard, no mistake. The moment Billy reached for the wrong tool or made the wrong assumption, he was barking at him from his fucking chair; all red face and curses. But he was also fair and took his job very seriously; never cursed Billy out when he did the _right_ thing. He seemed mindful of how Billy’s hands let him down every now and then and simply narrowed his eyes at any small fumbling _that_ caused. Hell, once the Monza was finished, the old guy actually fucking smiled and told Billy he’d done a ‘good job’.

Over that first week, he and Billy developed a pleasant, bitchy relationship where the old man would yell at him and, increasingly, Billy would yell right back. Despite always feeling too hot and, on occasion, more than a little out of his depth, the work and the company was a good distraction from everything and he was actually learning shit too.

With Billy basically doing all the work, Larry’s auto shop was open with reduced hours. Even with the changed opening times, Billy was basically working full time for four days a week. It was a new, exhausting routine but it really was fucking helping. He was too tired to lie awake in the attic room; too tired to lie there thinking about the blood and the screams and how much he fucking missed Steve Harrington.

\---

“I’m going in late today. You good to feed Jane when you get back?” Hopper asked at the breakfast table one morning. Billy nodded as he swigged his coffee. It wasn’t unusual for the old man to make these kinds of requests now.

While 14 was probably old enough to take care of yourself, Billy knew El was different. She wasn’t fucking stupid or anything but there was a childishness to her that made both him and Hopper pretty fucking confident in their assumption that, if left to her own devices, all she’d eat would be Eggos. The kid was strangely obsessed and, honestly, Billy was perpetually confused as to why Hopper kept the damned things in the house. Out of sight, out of mind, surely?

Maybe that was a fight that they’d already had.

Knowing both personalities… definitely. Knowing both personalities, it was probably still a touchy subject so Billy kept shtum.

He agreed and went to work. Walked because hearing Larry grumble about the condition of the Camaro again was not an appealing thought. Walked also because it was bright and sunny and he needed cheering up. The previous night had been restless. As much as work had been a good balm for the nightmares, some still managed to slip through.

Last night, Steve had been in his arms again. They’d been laughing and touching and _being_ together in Steve’s plaid-covered room. It had started sweet and loving, as all the worst nightmares did. One minute they were kissing -Billy on his back, Steve leaning down to trail his lips down past his jaw- and the next Steve was making _that noise_ again; the grunting sound that he’d made when the Remorhaz’s spear had stuck into him. There’d been a cough and Billy had felt the tell-tale taps of _hailstones_ on his collarbone. When Steve straightened up again, his cheeks were torn and bleeding and those _fangs_ were growing from his gums.

Billy had woken screaming. Had woken the other two. Had had El climbing into bed with him and Hopper sleeping on the couch so he could ‘keep an eye’. They didn’t talk about it. It wasn’t the first time this had happened. It was just something they did.

So, yeah, a _walk_ to work felt right. It felt calming. The world was brighter than those dreams. He didn’t have to sink into them; didn’t have to drown in them.

Work was long and tiring. Larry had a delivery arriving and, thanks to a particularly _unhelpful_ driver, Billy had to unload everything himself and haul it into the back storeroom. It was all heavy shit; everything you _didn’t_ want to be carrying back and forth. Billy’s muscles burned but it was a very good distraction at the very least.

Dripping with sweat, he dragged his feet home, nearly setting off two tripwires on his way through the woods to the cabin. Even with a complete lack of otherworldly activity in the past 52 days since Steve’s death, the traps that littered the run-up to Hopper’s place were all still there. Knowing what he did now about their situation, Billy figured they’d probably be in place for _years_ to come. The government assholes weren’t to be trusted. Not if they could shrug off the death of so many of their own so easily. Not if they could cover up Steve’s death with a car crash with so little effort.

He got home and headed straight to the shower, only pausing a moment to call out to El that he was back. She replied with some kind of distorted shout so Billy carried on about his business. He felt disgusting and the water, while lacking pressure and consistency with its spurting delivery method, felt good on his aching muscles. With any luck, today’s work would be enough to knock him out tonight. With any luck, there would be no dreams where he’d watch Steve fall apart again. There’d be no screaming at 2am or tiny arms wrapping around him. He wouldn’t wake to the sound of Hopper snoring on his couch.

Towel slung around his hips, Billy headed up the ladder to his room. It wasn’t the most dignified of ascents but, with no one standing below him, he at least didn’t have anyone there to ogle at his junk. El must have been doing something in her little room. Was probably on the walkie-talkie with Little Wheeler or some shit. Being careful to close the hatch -this being the now-accepted sign to leave him alone outside of him waking in the night screaming- Billy dropped his towel and set about pulling on the loosest clothing he could get his hands on.

It wasn’t hard to find clothes that were a little too big on him at the moment. With his hands still being that little bit shitty from the wounds on his arms, he’d really lost condition over the past 52 days. All the shirts that used hug his muscles now felt slack; the jeans that clung to him now simply hung there. It wasn’t a huge difference but it was there. Looking at himself in the full-length mirror that Hopper had moved up here from his own room, Billy sighed. With any luck, working at the auto shop would help to beef him back up again; would build that old strength back into his hands.

Hopefully, _this_ wasn’t the new normal that everyone had been talking about.

\---

“Billy!” he heard Hoppers voice rising from below.

Billy sat up on the bed. When had he..? He looked around his room in confusion. The day’s light was totally gone and Hopper was home. How late was it? Had he fallen asleep?

Heart hammering in his chest, Billy rose and crossed over to the hatch. A familiar panic was thrumming through his veins. It was late. Hopper was home already. Hopper was home and Billy had fallen a-fucking-sleep like an idiot after work. Shit. He’d agreed to get food for him and El. He’d agreed this fucking morning and he’d not done it.

Hands shaking, he lifted the hatch and climbed down the ladder. The hatch was positioned over the far end of the lounge so, once he’d reached the bottom of the ladder, all Billy had to do was turn to see the older man standing in the doorway that led into the kitchenette. He was still in his uniform, hands on his hips. El was standing on the opposite side of the room in her own doorway. Looking over at her, she gave him a small smile but it did nothing to stay the fear that was currently cycloning through Billy’s mind. The room felt tense -full of static- like the quiet before a thunderstorm.

“I thought I asked you to get dinner for El tonight,” Hopper said simply, his voice having that same, ominous restrained edge to it that Neil’s used to right before he’d explode. Billy felt his whole body tensing up. He bit his lip. Shit. There wasn’t an excuse. “Isn’t that what we agreed?” the old man asked and, again, it sounded so fucking simple.

“I-” Billy started, his brows pulling into a scowl. That wasn’t right. He was answering back. He knew better than that. “I didn’t…” he said and there was a tense silence.

Hopper took a step forward but Billy couldn’t see the expression on his face; didn’t dare to look up and see it. Neil didn’t like being stared out. He saw it as defiance. He saw it as fighting back. Fuck. Billy clenched his fists as tightly as he could and looked down at the floor. There was a sigh; angry, tired or just annoyed, Billy couldn’t tell.

“I ate,” El said defiantly and there was another sigh from the old man.

“Tell Billy what you ate, Jane. Tell him what _nutritious_ meal you prepared for yourself tonight,” Hopper said and it was sarcastic and hard and Billy bit his lip hard. He could feel his teeth sinking into the soft flesh of his lower lip; could almost taste the tang of his own blood. “Go on. Tell him.”

“Eggos,” El replied with that same tone of defiance that only made Billy feel twenty times worse.

“Eggos, Billy! She just ate Eggos! A whole freaking box of Eggos!” Hopper snapped and Billy lowered his chin to his chest; braced for whatever was coming his way. Fuck.

He’d really messed this up. In its own strange way, it had been working. Why’d he always have to mess shit up?

“They’re not good for her, you know,” Hopper sighed and, again, without looking Billy couldn’t tell what he meant by it. Fuck, fuck, fuck. If he just chanced it, just looked up. “Look, kid, if you don’t wanna do something you do have to…” Hopper trailed off and now it sounded a bit more identifiable. Annoyed. Disappointed. Maybe even regretful. Hopper hadn’t slept all that well last night either; sleeping on the couch in the attic rather than his own bed. He’d taken in a broken, useless kid who couldn’t even make dinner this one time.

“I’m sorry…” Billy forced out through his tightened jaw. It came out so fucking bitter. The panic-driven blood was still pumping too fast; beating away in his ears, distorting the world. With one clench, he briefly felt his nails pinch the skin of his palms. A small stab of pain to remind him that he still could; wounds be damned. “I’m sorry I’m so fucking useless…” he carried on, sounding dramatic; sounding lit a stupid, bratty kid. Goddamn, he’d sworn in front of El. Fuck. Neil would have his ass for that.

Hopper simply stepped forward, his face still out of Billy’s view.

“No one’s saying that-” he tried but Billy shook his head.

“I’m sorry you’ve taken in a useless piece of shit like me!” Billy snarled, his jaw, his fists, his whole body clenched so tight; too tight.

“Jane, go back in your room,” Hopper said sternly and now Billy looked up. The old man’s eyes were locked on to him. His whole body was leaning forward, a hand coming up as if he was calming a wild animal or something. “Billy…” Hopper tried and Billy had to fucking laugh at that.

Hadn’t he grown? Hadn’t he changed? Why was he still being treated like a monster? Why was _he_ still the bad guy?

Neil was right. Neil had always been right. The only way to deal with Billy was with violence. After all, that was what Billy was; he was violence. Even in this broken, pathetic state, he still just was a vicious animal. Hopper should have put him down too when he’d had the chance. Two bullets instead of that single one that had taken Steve away.

“Fuck you!” Billy spat and there were tears in his eyes but he couldn’t say why anymore. Everything was melding into a shade of red.

“Billy-” it was El speaking now but Hopper was now shooting daggers in her direction.

“Jane, now!” he barked and, fuck, if it wasn’t just like all those times Neil had sent Max and Susan away. Was he finally about to get what he deserved? Fuck.

“Gunna hit me, old man?” Billy sneered, advancing on the older man and laughing when he saw his eyes widen. “Teach me about fucking _responsibility_?” he continued and turned his head to the side. “Go on! I know you’re dying to lay down the law!” he goaded, pointing to his jaw as a target for the old fucker.

Only minutes ago he’d been so scared that Hopper was going to hit him; that he was going to be just like Neil. Now he _needed_ it. He needed to feel the sweet release of physical pain; needed to be right about Hopper. It was fucked up _-so_ fucked up- but so was he. He was a fucked up _thing_. Hopper shouldn’t have brought him here.

“I’m not going to hit you, kid,” Hopper was saying but Billy just laughed again; that same uncontrolled cackle that used to rile his enemies up to no end.

“Why not? I’m a fuck-up! I need to be shown who’s the fucking boss!” Billy grinned, feeling fucking hysterical at this point. The tears were rolling down his cheeks and he felt like a goddamn mad man. “A little pain to put me back in my fucking place!”

“I don’t hurt children, Billy.”

“But you _shot_ him!” Billy shouted and the whole world stopped. His breath halted in his throat and- Fuck. Why’d he say that? He was okay. It was day 52 and he’d been okay. A shitty dream but nothing else. He’d been fine. Fuck…

“That was different Billy…” Hopper said after the longest time. His face, his voice, his whole posture was sinking; drooping under the weight of the grief that Billy knew he felt too.

“ _He_ was a kid!” Billy cried out and the words weren’t his. Were his. Goddamn, he had no idea anymore. Hadn’t he understood why Hopper did it? There had been a time when it had made sense. There had been a time when Billy knew and understood why. He’d accepted it. Why the fuck had he accepted it? “He was a _kid_ like me and you shot him!”

“We’re not talking about that, Billy,” Hopper practically growled and Billy laughed again. It was the most ragged, broken laugh so far.

“Hit me!” he demanded, moving forwards again. “Go on! Hit me!” he pressed even as Hopper took a step back.

“No. Billy, you need to calm down,” he tried but Billy shook his head, releasing more and more tears.

“I can’t fucking calm down! When will you get that in your head, Hopper? I can’t just fucking calm down!” Billy shouted, raising his hands up in the air like it was so fucking evident. He was broken. He’d thought he was okay.

“Billy-!”

“Steve fucking _died_ , Hopper!” Billy cried out and he really was crying now. Every emotion was twisting together now. It was all so fucking much. “He died and I fucking didn’t- I didn’t...”

“I know you two were close-" Hopper started but Billy laughed again through his tears. 

“We weren’t just fucking _close_ , Hopper. We were _fucking_ ,” he spat it out like it was something dirty; like it wasn’t the beautiful thing that it had been. Watching the old man’s face, that bland look of _nothingness_ , Billy went on, “You wanna hit me _now_? You let a real life fucking faggot into your home! Let him near your kid! Surely that’s due a couple of licks!” And he was laughing again even as the tears continued to fall; even as he started to sag against the dining table.

Hopper’s face was still even. Calm.

“I don’t care about all that, Billy,” he said and it was so fucking hard to hear.

“Fuck...” Billy whined and brought his hand up to his face. Everything was too much. This was just too much. “Please just hit me…” he gasped looking up at the wall of zen that was Jim Hopper.

Sighing deeply, the older man moved closer reaching out with one of his big hands. Billy flinched like he _hadn’t_ just been begging for some violence but Hopper persisted. His hand rested gently on Billy’s shoulder and Billy shuddered out another sob. Fuck.

“No one’s hitting you, kid,” Hopper said softly and Billy covered his face back up. “Not now. Never again.”

All of a sudden there were arms around his waist and he could feel the warmth and weight of El hugging him close. With a broken laugh, Billy let it happen; let the old man and the young girl simply stay with him while he cried like a fucking baby. Goddamn, this was so fucked up. This ‘new normal’ was anything but.

Once the tears had run dry -once Billy was straightening up and El was stepping away- Hopper gave Billy’s shoulder a single squeeze before letting him go. Looking up into the older man’s eyes, Billy could see a fond sparkle as he gave him an encouraging smile.

“Well, I don’t know about you…” Hopper started. “But I’m actually starved. How about we get some real food sorted?” he offered and Billy laughed again, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

“Not hungry,” El chirped and Hopper gave her a _look_.

“You’re eating _something_ other than Eggos, missy,” he said sternly with a short, authoritative finger jabbing in her direction. “Something _nutritious_ ,” he concluded.

“Sounds good, Hop,” Billy sniffed and the older man positively beamed at him.

“Good,” he replied and, with that, they all headed into the kitchen to get to work. 

That night, at 10pm, the three of them sat around the table to eat burned frozen pizza together and, strangely, it was the best meal Billy’d had in weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a sucker for Daddy Hopper fics. <3<3<3


	2. Jim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra chapter because I wanted it!! ^_^''

After El had gone to bed and he and Hopper had shared the limited clean-up that a frozen pizza calls for, Billy headed straight over to the ladder with only the briefest of ‘goodnights’ before he made his ascent. He’d barely managed to turn around at the top before Hopper started to follow him, clambering up into the attic like he owned the damn place.

Well, technically he _did_ but…

Billy cocked his head to one side in question but the older man simply closed the hatch behind him and moved over to the couch that he’d slept on the previous night, fluffing up the cushions before he lay down.

“You don’t have to do that,” Billy said flatly. “I’m fine. You don’t have to stay on the couch.”

“Today was a lot, kid,” Hopper sighed as he kicked off his boots and put his feet up.

He wasn’t wrong. After fooling himself for most of the day that he was okay, Billy did have to admit that it had been a lot. Last night’s nightmare had shit him up more than he realised and the bullshit just now was probably at least partially because of that.

All the same, Billy couldn’t shake the slow ebb of guilt that was running just under his skin. Hopper had taken him in, got him a job, and all Billy had done to repay him was keep him up with pussy-ass screaming and just being a general asshole.

Hopper was yet another person that Billy had become a burden to.

Billy crossed the room to sit on the edge of his bed, facing the older man. It was strange. Even now, in this uncomfortable situation with him and Hopper, this room -this _dusty, old_ attic room- felt more like home than his bedroom in Cherry Lane ever did. Even without his posters and record player, this felt like _his_ space.

When had that happened?

“Yeah… I’m-” Billy started but stopped himself. The coming apology needed to be _controlled_ ; it needed to be _restrained_. He didn’t want to start that self-deprecating shit again. Didn’t want to get himself all worked up and insincere again. “I’m sorry about that. About bringing _him_ up like that,” he added because he could still see the look on the old man’s face. He knew, of all the shots he’d taken tonight, that had been the one that had drawn blood.

“It’s on your mind,” Hopper said, eyes closed, fingers interlinked at his belly button. He almost looked like some nut-job in a psychiatrist’s office. Almost.

“But it _isn’t_. It _hasn’t_ been,” Billy tried because, in all honesty, he _hadn’t_ been thinking about the gun shot. He’d known from the start why Hopper had done it. Steve was _dying_. He was _dying_ and doing it slowly and painfully. Hopper’s bullet had freed him from that. Billy knew that. He _hadn’t_ been thinking about it. “I know why you did it. I know…” he tried to say it aloud; tried to put it into words. His voice broke; betrayed him like it seemed to do all the time at the moment.

“He was suffering…” Hopper supplied, and Billy rested his hands on his knees, palms up. He looked down at them and slowly touched his thumbs to each of his fingertips - _index, middle, ring, pinky, index, middle, ring-_ like that would do a damn to keep him calm here

“I know…” he breathed and repeated the action over and over. _Index, middle, ring, pinky…._ So far, his breathing was staying regular. His eyes were stinging but, at least for now, they were dry.

“Look…” Hopper sighed and he was rolling on to his side. Billy looked up, thumbs still moving, and looked him in the eye. There were dark circles under the old man’s eyes. He hadn’t shaved that morning and he looked worse for it. Billy could see the impact he had on the other man just from _living_ here. “I don’t know what was going on with the two of you…” Hopper started, pausing for a moment and then waving his hands dismissively in Billy’s direction. “And I don’t want to know either! Even _without_ your little _confession_ back there, anyone with eyes could see that you meant a lot to each other…” he continued and Billy felt all levels of shit for that one.

He’d said it so viciously; weaponised it. It had been beautiful, what he and Steve had. Lots of people hated fags -and to some degree a part of Billy kind of did too- but what he and Steve had been wasn’t _disgusting_. It had been beautiful. It hadn’t been something to throw in Hopper’s face as a means to piss him off. It hadn’t been ammo for one of Billy’s bullshit attacks.

“Yeah…” he breathed. He’d long given up on shielding anyone from how it had been. As Hopper said, even without him screaming about them fucking, it was fucking obvious. “I love him… I _loved_ him…” he corrected himself and then hated himself for it. Didn’t he still love him? What was this pain inside him if not the lingering agonies of being in love. It didn’t just go away because Steve did… did it? “Urgh! Tenses! It doesn’t feel right using the past tense!” Billy tried to laugh, tried to joke away the tears that were already creeping back up on him. Goddamn, it was like clockwork; he’d think of Steve and the tears would just _come_. It didn’t matter if it was day fifty-two or _one hundred and two_ ; he was still just as fucking broken.

“Yeah, I get that,” Hopper said in his gruff voice and Billy watched him slowly nodding. “My daughter, Sara… I still struggle to talk about her,” he continued after a brief moment of consideration; like he was close to holding this part of himself back from Billy; keep him away from it. “Still struggle with using the right tense…” he finished and the understanding was so evident in the way he repeated Billy’s sentiment.

Sara. Billy had vague memories of Tommy’s bullshit from when he first came to Hawkins; the brief lowdown he’d been given about the various figures in the tiny town of Hawkins, Indiana. Aside from the _extensive_ explanation of how cool Steve Harrington had been -how his house and hair and _cock_ had been the biggest and best in town before Nancy Wheeler came along- he had also mentioned the Chief’s dead daughter. Briefly said something about her getting cancer or something like that.

“How long?” he asked. Anything else would be too much to ask. Anything else might put pressure on a sore spot that Billy didn’t know was there.

“Coming up to seven years now,” Hopper sighed sadly, closing his eyes for a brief moment of contemplation. “So, you see, I get it. I get the pain of losing someone you love. I get the pain of watching them _change_ …” he said and his eyes opened back up to lock with Billy’s. There was a weight to his stare but it wasn’t one that Billy couldn’t handle; it wasn’t one he was _supposed_ to handle. It was a weight that Hopper carried around himself. His own personal loss; his own personal weight. “It was different for you. What happened to Steve… It was fast. It was horrible. I could hear him from… We could hear him over all of it,” he started and, fuck, it hurt to hear.

Billy didn’t doubt they could hear Steve. Something must have drawn Hopper into the room instead of making his quick escape. But…

Fuck…

He could still _hear_ him. He could still _hear_ the blood and the fear and the agony…

“Yeah…” he breathed out a shaky breath. So far, the tears were holding back but only just.

“I had to watch Sara change too,” Hopper said and his voice was just as breathy; just as shaky. Talking about this was just as painful for him as talking about Steve was for Billy. Seven years down the line and the pain was still there. “I watched as she slowly burned out like a candle. It was…” he stopped, eyes closing again. Billy waited. He knew this feeling. He knew this need for a break. When Hopper opened his eyes again, he barely needed to say the words, “I get it, kid.”

He really did.

“I _keep_ seeing it. I keep _hearing_ it. Not just when I’m sleeping- Just-” Billy explained, wanting more understanding; wanting this not to be ask fucked up as it felt it was. If this was normal -if this was just how grief and loss was- then maybe he could deal. Maybe he would make it through. “It was worse at the start. In those first few weeks I saw it over and over all the fucking time,” he continued and his hands curled in on themselves again; thumb movements forgotten now. His vision blurred and he closed his eyes. “But it still keeps coming back. If I stop for even a fucking second it’s all back with me….”

“Sounds about right,” Hopper nodded and, fuck, it didn’t help. It didn’t bring that promised relief. Knowing that he wasn’t going mad -knowing that Hopper had felt that way too- didn’t soften anything. Fuck…

“Does it stop? Does it go away? I’m just-” Billy asked, almost desperate now. No. Not almost. “I’m so tired of being this broken _thing_ … I just want… I want-” What? What the fuck did he want?

He wanted to be normal again; be Billy Hargrove again. This snivelling, crying, clawing creature that he’d become was exhausting. Yeah, there were times where he _almost_ looked okay. Today at work, shouting back and forth with Larry as he carried all the shit from the truck. Cursing out the driver when he’d finally left. But, as tonight had showed, it was all superficial. He wanted to be that guy but he just wasn’t.

But no… that wasn’t it really.

He wanted to _go back_. He wanted to go back to that morning when he and Steve were lying in bed; when they were in love and the world seemed so bright. He wanted to stop them from going to the lab. He wanted Steve in his arms; wanted to be at the June Ball; wanted to actually kiss the boy he loved as they danced in front of their peers and damn the consequences.

“I want-” he tried again but there was just so much. Tears pours from him again as he was assaulted by all the impossible things that he wanted.

“You want him back,” Hopper finished for him and yes. It was that simple. Billy hiccoughed and tried to wipe his eyes.

“Yes…” he sniffed but Hopper was getting to his feet and crossing over to sit beside him. A strong hand rested on his shoulder -just like how Billy had held Henderson the other week- and the older man waited for the worst of it to pass.

“This thing… It isn’t a straight line, kid. I _still_ have days when I see Sara lying in that goddamn hospital bed. I _still_ hear the sound of her struggling to breathe…” he sighed, speaking slowly as Billy continued to cry like a goddamn baby.

“Shit…” Billy cursed and Hopper offered a small chuckle.

“Thing is, there’s so much more too. I remember her sixth birthday. I remember her first steps. The first time she said ‘I love you’ and really meant it. I remember the good stuff too,” Hopper explained and it just sounded unrealistic; it sounded so unattainable.

Billy remembered how last night’s dream had started. How Steve had smiled and was in his arms again. Goddamn, even that was no comfort; not when it melted away into the agony once again. If anything that ‘good stuff’ made the bad feel worse. The contrast burned.

“The good stuff hurts… The good stuff- There wasn’t enough good stuff…” Billy babbled.

There wasn’t enough. They’d not even had three full weeks together. Circumstance and idiocy had kept their time together too short. There just wasn’t enough.

“There never is…” Hopper nodded, giving his shoulder a small squeeze. “But, in time, the good stuff will win out.”

“You think?” Billy sniffed. It still didn’t sound right. He turned to blink in the other man’s direction and saw the sincerity written on his face.

“I _know_ ,” the older man assured him with one sage nod. “You’ll remember the good stuff and it won’t hurt so much.”

“ _‘So much’_ , huh?” Billy scoffed through the salty tears and the fucking mess that was his face right now.

“Well, I can’t promise it won’t hurt _at all_ ,” Hopper said with a small tilt of the head. “I guess that’s the risk we always take when we love someone.”

And that hit harder than Hopper might have known. After his mom, after Alex, Billy had known how risky it was falling in love. He’d resisted it. He’d tried to ignore it. He’d been a fucking fool.

But those two weeks when he had it… they’d been so sweet. He’d been so happy with Steve. It hurt tenfold to think how goddamn happy he’d been, especially on those final few days. That night at the June Ball, he’d felt so fucking complete.

He’d really thought it would be different. He’d really thought he could keep Steve safe.

But, just like with Alex, he’d failed. Just like with Alex, he hadn’t been enough. Was it the world’s way of highlighting what a fuckup he was? Was it divine justice that he, a faggot, would never love without losing the person in a horrific way? He knew what Neil would say…

“You seriously don’t care that he was a guy? That I’m a- That we were both…” Billy heard himself asking. He looked at Hopper. Fucked up feelings from earlier aside, he _wasn’t_ Neil. The conversation would never have gotten this far if he were. The first mention of _loving_ Steve Harrington would have put a swift end to it; could well have put a swift end to _Billy_ himself.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, kid; I’m not gunna be _imagining_ it or nothing any time soon. But…” Hopper answered in a voice that was _almost_ nonchalant. He shrugged an _almost_ casual shrug as his hand came away from Billy’s shoulder. “I figure it’s your business, you know? Don’t get it myself but…” he shrugged again. “Each to his own.”

“I can’t imagine my dad saying that,” Billy said honestly, bowing his head. The tears changed direction running down the sides of his nose; pooling at his nostrils before moving onward and dripping from the tip. “ _He_ definitely thought it was his business…”

“Your dad is a son of a bitch,” Hopper said flatly and Billy was caught off guard, eyes opening. “If you don’t mind me saying.”

“You’re not wrong…” the younger boy couldn’t help but chuckle, wiping away more tears with the back of his hand. There was a sigh from Hopper but Billy couldn’t quite look at him still. The tears were still flowing, albeit slower now. He still felt too fucking broken; too fucking stupid.

“Tonight…” Hopper started after a brief pause. “You really thought I was going to beat on you, didn’t you?” he asked and Billy felt his body tense up. Ah. _This_ conversation.

“I-” he started.

“ _He_ would have, wouldn’t he?” Hopper continued, knowing everything without it needing to be said. Hell, he was a cop. He’d probably run into this shit over and over. Didn’t he used to work in the big city? Or was that just some misremembered bullshit from Tommy? “He’d have hurt you just for forgetting to cook dinner?” the older man pressed, and Billy shrugged. He couldn’t really give him more that. It really depended with Neil. It always depended. “Goddamn…” the older man cursed and Billy sniffed with yet another wipe at his eyes.

“Not every time. He’d probably just mouth off at me; call me useless or a fucking faggot or something… Maybe give slap me around a little or something,” he shrugged again. Goddamn, in the last couple of weeks, he’d told more people about Neil than he’d ever told in his whole life. It was fucking crazy having this many people who made his business _their_ business. It was crazy having this many people who _cared._ “He’d only really go for me if I mouthed off or…”

“Or what?”

“Or if I deserved it,” Billy breathed and he could hear Nancy -he could hear _Steve_ \- telling him he didn’t deserve it; that he could _never_ deserve it.

“Kid…” Hopper sounded so disappointed here.

“I know, I know…” Billy sighed with a shake of the head. He knew how it sounded. He knew it wasn’t the right thing to say. “I know I _shouldn’t_ think I deserve it. I _do_ know it’s not normal for a father to hurt his kid; that it’s child abuse and all that shit…” he started, trying to explain. “I dunno… Between terrorising Max and the other nerds and beating the shit out of Steve back in November… I guess I’ve not been the best guy recently…” he continued, that familiar stab of guilt barely registering in the whirlwind of grief that was still dominating everything.

“So, you think you deserve it?” Hopper observed evenly.

“Well, yeah… Especially now…” Billy replied with a tired shrug.

“Why _now_?” Hopper asked and Billy sighed.

He’d explained this so many times. No one believed him. No one wanted him to feel this way. Its just that, even if it helped in the moment, nothing anyone said shook this feeling loose completely. Nothing anyone said actually lasted. It always crept back up. Like the memories of Steve face -his wide eyes, his broken skin, his bloodied screams- it was always there.

“I didn’t save him, Hopper…” he said it numbly. He was ready for the response. _It wasn’t your fault_. But it was. He _was_ there. He could have done more. He _should_ have done more. “He was right there. He was alive and there and I was there and he- And I-” it was all building back up again. He was still fucking crying. There was no end to this tonight. “I didn’t save him…” he finished and his hands were fists; his nails were sinking into his flesh; his forearms were throbbing.

“Some people can’t be saved Billy…” Hopper said and Billy looked up at him.

“But I could have-! If I’d been faster- If I’d been stronger-” he argued but Hopper was shaking his head.

“You weren’t. You weren’t _faster_ and you weren’t _stronger_ ,” he said simply and Billy felt like he was being slapped. He wasn’t… “Just like I wasn’t _smarter_. I wasn’t _more observant_. I _didn’t_ catch it earlier. I _didn’t_ cure Sara’s cancer,” there was hurt in Hopper’s voice. There was a kindred regret that burned so brightly in the older man. “Some people can’t be saved,” he repeated and, fuck, it resonated.

“I-” Billy tried. It was so simple but it wasn’t fucking fair. Steve _should_ have been saved. He _shouldn’t_ have been there in the first place. He should just be alive right now; alive and safe and with Billy. “I just want him back. I just want-” Billy huffed and Hopper’s hand was back on his shoulder.

“Look, me hitting you isn’t going to bring him back,” he said and Billy huffed out a small laugh, rolling his eyes.

“I know that,” he sighed and Hopper gave him a small squeeze.

“He’s gone. It hurts -and it’s really gunna take some time to _stop_ hurting this much and this often- but it’s true: he’s gone,” it hurt to hear. It _killed_ Billy to hear that. Even after 52 days -even after going to Steve’s goddamn sham of a funeral- it was horrible to hear. It was horrible how real it made it. “And it wasn’t your fault and you couldn’t have saved him. This stuff with the Upside Down…” Hopper sighed, long and tired. “It’s bigger than any of us.”

There was a silence. Billy bit his lip.

It really was.

“Like cancer…” he reflected.

“Yeah, kid. Like cancer,” Hopper said softly.

“I’m sorry about your daughter, Hop,” Billy tried because he really was. Hopper had El now and they were like a proper little family but, from this conversation -from all the little looks that now made sense- this still hurt him. Losing this Sara had broken Hopper once upon a time. Billy was now looking at the man that Jim Hopper had managed to scrape back together; changed and new.

He wondered what Billy Hargrove would look like seven years down the line.

“Yeah… I’m sorry about Steve… For what happened and for my part in it,” there was another small squeeze on his shoulder and Billy dried his eyes one last time. The tears had finally let up; he was finally not quite so fucking broken. “Now lie down and get some goddamn sleep. It’s tomorrow already and I’m too old for this shit,” he sighed and got to his feet.

Watching the old man cross back over to his couch, Billy couldn’t help but smiling. It was a small thing -just the minutest twitch at the corners of his mouth really- but it was everything. He lay back in bed and looked up at the ceiling, hearing the other man shifting on the couch. Poor old bastard really didn’t need to camp out there. Not tonight. 

Eye flicking over to the clock, Billy could see the truth of Hopper’s final observation. 12:13AM. Day 53 without Steve had really snuck up on him. Today _would_ be easier. Today _would_ be another step towards the good stuff. The new Billy Hargrove was one step closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've made a pact with mampysou that I will try to stop making Billy cry.   
> Let's see if we can manage it...


	3. Holidays

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more 'stories' after this. They both have chapters but, thought I'd put that out there.   
> There is a planned end to my nonsense!! ^_^'''

Hopper was right, of course. As July bled into August and August gave way to September, Billy went through just about every possible emotional state. One day late-July, he’d been convinced that he was fine; that everything was okay and he was just _over it_. That night he’d had the worst nightmare in weeks and had woken up screaming again and again. It was like that: up and down like a goddamn yo-yo. Every day was a roulette of how Billy would be; how Billy would _feel_.

As the old man had said: this _grieving_ thing definitely wasn’t a straight line.

The worst day was the day he’d heard that the Harringtons had sold up. Larry had mentioned it one day mid-August and Billy’s breath had caught in his throat. He’d dropped his tools and just started to shake like a leaf. Larry had called Hopper to take him home and Billy had spent the rest of the day in a ball hyperventilating.

Yeah… that had been a bad day.

Other than the occasional freak out, he spent much of the summer either working, ferrying El and the nerds about or hanging with Nancy and Jonathan. Thing was that, like himself, the two of them had gotten themselves jobs as well so their time together was limited. Jonathan had snagged a job at the RadioShack and Nancy was working in the library.

While he missed their company, it was a small relief if Billy was being honest with himself. Yeah, he did feel the occasional, misplaced feeling of resentment towards them that they weren’t sat around missing Steve; that they weren’t having panic attacks and being sent home from work. But, actually, they _were_ getting on with their lives. _Billy_ wasn’t holding them back; he wasn’t quite the burden that he’d worried he was. He missed them -he missed being part of a group- but he was glad they weren’t as screwed up as he was.

When school started back up in September, Billy really considered not going back at all. He’d been working at Larry’s all summer and, despite the wild swings in his mood, he was in the rhythm of it all. Going back -walking those halls again- without Steve just wasn’t something he was interested in.

“Nah-ah,” Hopper’s reaction had been pretty instantaneous when Billy had suggested it. “You’re finishing High School, kid. End of discussion.”

After his big breakdown, after the screaming and crying, Hopper had treaded carefully around any kind of _parenting_ issues with Billy. It was the elephant in the room, more often than not. They both knew that, with him living under his roof, Hopper felt some level of _responsibility_ for Billy; felt like it was his job to take on the role of ‘father’. Billy didn’t mind it. The hesitant, minimalistic approach that Hopper had taken this far wasn’t that intrusive. If anything, it was almost kind of _nice._

This reaction, however, was so fucking blunt and decided that Billy was left blinking.

“I mean… I wasn’t asking your permission,” Billy had stammered, not sure how to respond to such an instant dismissal.

“Good because you’re not getting it,” Hopper snipped, picking up his paper and pretending to be engrossed in the front page article.

“I _meant_ it’s not up to you,” Billy tried but Hopper’s eyes looked up over the paper and locked onto his. There was a deadpan seriousness there that made further objections shrivel up and die in Billy’s throat.

“You’re finishing High School,” the older man had repeated. “You can work at Larry’s on weekends and, if you keep on top of your homework, _one_ night a week,” he continued, laying out a plan that was too thought-out to be off the cuff. Billy looked into the other man’s eyes and saw the immovable resolve there. He’d thought about this.

So, on day 86 without Steve, he’d gone back to school. Everything was different and yet it was all the same; like any other new year at school. Giving Henderson a ride -because, fuck, now he was a Freshman- Billy had pulled up to see both sets of Byers’ and Wheelers waiting for him. Max had skated up almost like she’d timed it that way and they’d all greeted each other before separating into two _distinct_ groups. It wasn’t clear which group was trying to protect their image more.

As Billy had collected his class schedule and pretended he was listening to Nancy and Jonathan, he couldn’t help but look at the sea of faces that passed him by. Although he hadn’t been wearing button-downs since that night at the lab, there was still _major_ element of him being checked out by the girls of Hawkins High. They all passed him with light giggles and flushed cheeks. It occurred to him that he was a _senior_ now; that Steve _wouldn’t_ have been here even if he were alive.

_I’ll get a shitty job here and save up. The moment you graduate we go._

Breath coming short, schedule gripped in a hand that was slowly getting stronger again, Billy had leaned up against the locker. Tears had prickled in his eyes and Nancy’s hand had been on his back; stroking, soothing. She’d whispered that it was okay; that they missed him too. Jonathan had stood close enough that no one could see that Billy was almost breaking only minutes into the school day.

But he’d pulled himself together. He’d made it through the day and the next and the next. The days passed with the same unpredictability as those of the summer; the number increasing from 86 to 87, 88, 89 and beyond. By the time the number of days without Steve had reached triple digits, Billy had been in school for two weeks and had fallen into another jerky rhythm of ‘normality’.

The new dynamic for the Matches was that Henderson seemed to be present more often than not. At least during breaks and lunch. Sure, he hung out with the nerds as well but it definitely wasn’t an even split. Billy didn’t mind it. Though he wasn’t going to be broadcasting it or anything, the kid was cool enough and it felt good to have him nearby. In a strange way, it felt comforting when Billy clocked his brief disconnects; the fleeting moments when his expression fell and the memory of Steve ghosted through his thoughts. It felt better to know that it wasn’t just him that was struggling.

\---

And so, life moved on. It was fucked up how quickly it did. Before Billy knew it, it was day 173: Thanksgiving. The runup had been tricky, lots of bullshit emotions and half-arguments with Hopper and just about anyone who came near him. All this talk about being thankful and being with your loved ones was just too fucking much for him.

Thanksgiving had never been Billy’s favourite holiday. Thanks to Neil, it had never been the occasion that other families had. When his peers laughed about their families fighting round the dinner tables, Billy would always roll his eyes. They had no idea. Neil used to spend the whole holiday in a foul mood. It wasn’t a time to be thankful in his eyes; it was a time to _blame_. It was that time of year when Neil would remember Billy’s mother and would make sure Billy remembered her too.

After their first disastrous Thanksgiving together, Susan had started to spend the holiday with her mother, taking Max with her and leaving Billy and Neil to duke it out. Like an idiot with Stockholm Syndrome or some shit, Billy would spend the day in the house; taking whatever Neil dished out.

Now he was away from all of that -away from the blame and the memories of how it was _his_ fault that his mom had died- but he still couldn’t be part of it. Even after escaping that man’s house -escaping that man- Billy still couldn’t find the strength to be thankful. 1985 had been the year he’d fallen in love again, the year he’d made new friends, the year he’d found a new family. But it had also been the year in which he’d watched Steve Harrington die.

Nothing could overshadow that. No matter how positive. This was the year when Billy’s heart had truly broken once and for all.

Hopper had been surprisingly accepting of Billy’s stance. As the time had passed, he had grown in confidence as a surrogate parent. Hell, the old man had actually _grounded_ Billy when the fucking school had called him about Billy not handing in several assignments. It didn’t make all that much difference really -Billy didn’t exactly have the social life that he had before all the Upside Down shit- but it was a bit of a turning point as far as _parenting_ was concerned.

Domestically speaking, the Hopper household was edging closer and closer to whatever Billy assumed ‘normal family life’ looked like; at least as close an approximation as a small town sheriff, eighteen-year-old part-time mechanic and fourteen-year-old home-schooled psychic could muster when none of them actually shared any blood.

So, he was pretty surprised when, a couple of days before Thanksgiving itself, he simply nodded when Billy said he didn’t want to do anything for the holiday. Staring like a moron, Billy wasn’t sure what to say.

“I’ve got work anyways,” Hopper had shrugged. “People tend to lose it around the holidays.”

And that had been that. Billy had managed to spend the day itself simply in his room listening to records and reading. The only times he left the house was to drop El off at the Byers’ place and pick her up again like a dutiful faux-sibling. Joyce had smiled and invited him in but he’d made his excuses both times, only staying a little longer than planned to ‘share’ a smoke with Jonathan. The other boy had simply sat with him, the silence speaking of his understanding.

That night, when Hopper’s shift was done and El was safely tucked up in bed, Billy had sat on the porch with the old man. They’d looked up at the stars and shared a couple of beers. It was only then that Billy looked beyond himself at the man that had taken him in; it was only then that he thought that this holiday might be tough for him too.

The silence between them was similar to the one with Jonathan in the most dissimilar of ways. Hopper understood, just like Jonathan did; he _knew_ why Billy couldn’t deal with Thanksgiving. But, unlike Jonathan, Billy could now see that he was right there with him. Even after all this time, Hopper still struggled to be _thankful_ with Sara gone.

It was day 173 and, looking at the old man sitting beside him, Billy wasn’t sure the end was in sight.

And wasn’t that just a kick in the teeth?

\---

The same clemency was not extended to him for Christmas.

From December first, El was filled with holiday cheer and Hopper, while not matching her enthusiasm, certainly indulged it. On her orders, the cabin had been thoroughly decorated; all twinkle lights and tacky decorations. Billy had tried to resist but, in the end, he’d been dragged into helping them set up the tree. They used every decoration that El was able to scrounge together from their friends and it looked awful; a real eyesore.

Still, El was so happy. For days - _weeks_ \- after they’d put it up, her face would brighten at the very sight of it.

There was a growing _plan_ for how Christmas was to be handled. Apparently, the whole Upside Down gang were keen to do _something_ together. Originally, the plan was put forth by Henderson one lunch time at school.

“My mom would lose her mind if I tried to leave her Christmas Day,” he lisped, providing reason enough why this couldn’t be a thing even before he’d fully explained why he thought it _needed_ to happen.

“Yeah, I don’t think my parents would be okay with me and Mike not being around either,” Nancy agreed, leaning back against the concrete wall. They were all sitting together in the photo lab; one of the key hangout points when the weather was shitty.

“That’s why I think Christmas Eve should be the day,” Henderson went on, his tone making it sound like Nancy had been backing up this thought rather than just expressing her own concerns. “That way parents can’t complain that we’re AWOL.”

“What exactly are you gunning for, Henderson?” Billy asked, twirling an unlit cigarette between his fingers. He hated that he couldn’t smoke in here.

Henderson gave him a _look_ as if he couldn’t believe he hadn’t worked it out already. The kid had really become too familiar over the past few months and, honestly, Billy had no one to blame but himself for it. Letting him hang out with them all the time, chilling with him in the Camaro outside the arcade when the younger boy needed a minute. It was too much like they were friends.

Hell… they _were_ friends by now, weren’t they?

“Well, we’re all like a family, right?” Henderson asked, his voice less certain than his facial expression would let you believe. There was a tinge of vulnerability to it; a subtle twang of pain that Billy wasn’t certain the other two would pick up on. “I just figured it’d be nice for us all to get together. You know?”

“Yeah...” Nancy said, for a moment only half sounding on board. “Yeah, you’re right. We _should_ do something,” she carried on. As she spoke Billy could hear her convincing herself of it.

“I was thinking we should all meet at yours, Jonathan. It’s basically our HQ, really,” the younger boy carried on, the pain ebbing away with the rising excitement. Just like Billy, Henderson’s emotions were pretty unpredictable. If he wasn’t going through that shit himself, Billy would have little time for it. Hell, it was exhausting enough from the inside, let alone the outside. They really were a matching pair of psychos at the moment.

“I could ask my mom?” Jonathan offered with only the slightest of stammers.

And that was the foundations of the great Christmas Eve party of 1985. Billy tried his best to keep out of the planning as much as he could but, with Henderson at the helm, he ended up being roped into all sorts of tasks. By now, he’d shown his card in a major way when it came to cooking. Max had always known he was a decent cook but -after more than a couple of nerd hangouts at Hopper’s place where Billy was instructed to not let them just binge on junk food- everyone seemed to have cottoned on too.

In the end, it was decided that Joyce would be hosting but everyone would bring a dish. Billy was lumbered with making three different types of potatoes as well as the carrots. It seemed pretty shitty but he wasn’t about to fuck with Henderson. The little nerd was on a mission.

Billy awoke on Christmas Eve, 199 days since Steve had died. Just like Thanksgiving, it felt like the day would be hollow. It was fucked-up how long he’d been feeling shitty, in all honesty. He knew it was. He and Steve had never had a Christmas together; the only _holiday_ they’d had together was Memorial Day.

Hell, he’d only known Steve _existed_ in this world for nine months before he died. It felt all kinds of fucked that he’d been mourning him almost as long as he’d known about him. And actually _knowing_ him; actually being honest enough to admit to himself that he was in love with him? God… that had only been a matter of weeks. It was nothing.

But it had been _everything_. It _still_ felt like everything.

As he prepped the potatoes and carrots, Billy tried and tried to shake the weight of his own sadness. It was heavy today. It was almost 200 days without Steve. It was so fucking heavy.

El woke up with all the excitement of a kid on actual Christmas morning, racing into the kitchenette and demanding Eggos with her happy little face. Billy was powerless to resist, the weight lessening as she wrapped herself around his waist and sang Christmas songs while he heated up the Eggos.

Leaving the potatoes to their own devices, Billy joined El and a sleepy-looking Hopper at the table and they all tucked into an Eggo breakfast; something they did far too often. All the same, it felt strangely special today; strangely like today was actually important.

Once they’d finished, El raced off to shower and Hopper went back to bed for an hour while Billy carried on with the food prep. It wasn’t all that complicated really, just the sheer volume of food he was making that took up the time. By the time he’d got all three types of potatoes and carrots ready in their containers, El was watching Christmas shit on the TV and Hopper was sitting on the couch. Both looked ready to head out.

Still, like a bitch, Billy took his time. He showered and spent as long as it took to make his hair fucking perfect. For the first time in 199 days, he put on one of his button-up shirts and left the top _two_ buttons undone; enough to show skin but not enough to show scars. It was a little chilly for it but he rummaged through his cupboard for a jacket.

As his fingertips brushed the fabric, he knew he’d found the wrong one. Pulling on the sleeve, the unmistakable grey of Steve’s members only jacket came into view. Goddamn. Billy bit his lip, his thumb gently making small circles where it pinched the fabric.

“Merry Christmas, beautiful…” he sighed, hearing his own voice break in the silence of his bedroom.

Fuck. Why did he do that to himself? He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in. He could do this. He’d been doing this for 199 days. Today was going to be fine. Better than fine. It was going to be a good day.

 _Good day_ , El’s voice was in his mind.

Even though they were living together, El still talked to him in his mind from time to time. Sometimes it was when she was being a little shit and trying to dodge some of Hopper’s rules. Other times, like now, it was her checking in with him; she always had a sense for when he was spiralling. At least when he was here, at home.

 ** _Yeah_ , **Billy thought back to her. ** _It will be, won’t it?_**

 _Family_ , El’s voice said and Billy smiled, letting go of Steve’s sleeve.

In the end, he went without a jacket, scooping El up in a big hug the moment he’d descended from the attic. Hopper drove them to the Byers place and they were welcomed with all the joys and noisiness of Christmas time.

Like Thanksgiving, Billy hadn’t had a normal Christmas in a while. For the first hour or so, while they were milling about waiting for people to show up, Billy felt a little overwhelmed, simply focusing on getting the food ready with Joyce in the kitchen. But, once Nancy had arrived with her brother, Sinclair and Henderson arrived, everyone seemed to settle.

They ate the dinner with laughter, shouting and general nonsense the whole time. Overstuffed and complaining of a headache, Hopper went for a post-dinner lie down in Jonathan’s room and everyone else sat around the lounge to play games while the Matches somehow ended up on clean up duty.

“You look good, Billy,” Nancy smiled as she dried the dished that Billy was handing her. “It’s nice to see you in a shirt again.”

“Checking me out, Nance? Jonathan’s right there,” Billy grinned, feeling light enough from the two glasses of wine, that Hopper had permitted, and the atmosphere to actually enjoy joking with his friends. Nancy laughed and lunged forwards pressing a gross, silly kiss to his cheek.

“Hey! I saw that!” Jonathan laughed as he rose up from putting one of the dishes away in a cupboard. Billy shot him a wink and tilted his cheek upwards.

“You can get in on it too, if you’re jealous!” he joked, making pouty lips in the other boy’s direction. Jonathan laughed again and marched over to plant a similarly gross kiss on the offered cheek.

“Oh my god!” Nancy laughed and the other two lost it along with her.

Through their nonsense and laughter, the clean-up took no time at all and the three teens soon headed in to join in the game of charades that the others were playing.

Next was presents and _that_ was a whole thing. Joyce and the recently-returned -and mildly rejuvenated- Hopper took up the duties of handing the gifts out and Billy was surprised to see the pile he’d amassed. There was a neat little gift from Nancy that, just from looking at the shape and size, Billy knew was some kind of cassette; a decently-sized gift from the Byers with home-made wrapping paper that Will had drawn for everyone; an envelope from Hopper; and a _huge_ , oddly-wrapped gift from Max.

As all the others tore into their presents and shouted out their glee and thanks to one another, Billy took his time over Max’s gift. Peeling back the paper, it revealed a wooden box. It was painted black and varnished with gloss so that it had a nice sheen to it. Looking up at Max, Billy could see her eyes on him.

“I made it in wood shop,” she said by way of explanation. “Look inside,” she continued and pushed her hair behind her ear in embarrassment. Everyone seemed to have paused what they were doing to watch this step-sibling moment and even Billy could feel the pressure of it. 

Tearing away the last of the wrapping paper, Billy saw the little chrome catches that held the lid shut. He flicked them up and lifted the lid.

“It’s just like you,” Max said hesitantly. “Black on the outside, with a rainbow on the inside.”

She had painted a perfect rainbow on the inside. Each stripe was vivid and beautiful and done with so much care that Billy knew it must have taken her ages. Billy ran his hand over the smooth edges of the box, amazed at the work that the little redhead had put into it. It really was spectacular.

There were records inside as well. Just four of them. Billy picked one up and his breath caught in his throat.

“Neil trashed your room the day you left,” Max explained, looking about herself as if wondering whether she could share this in front of everyone. “There wasn’t much he didn’t wreck but… these four made it…”

“Max…” Billy breathed and Max shifted uncomfortably.

It was a lot. Things had been getting better between them. Slowly but surely, they had been inching closer and closer to a _good_ level. Billy’s heart felt a little overwhelmed at this gift. It was just so much.

He rose to his feet and crossed the room.

“Come here,” he said and Max clambered to her feet, her cheeks flushed and her eyes a little wide. There was still a hint of fear in them; Billy knew it might be years before it was totally gone. He’d been so awful to her. There had been so much between them.

All the same, he pulled her close and held her for the longest time, smiling when he felt her arms wrap around him too.

“Thank you,” he smiled as the others got back to opening their presents. Max’s face was almost purple as she looked away and shuffled between her feet.

“Well… You’re welcome or… whatever…” she said and Billy laughed. “Just… go and open the other presents… Jeez!” she snapped and Billy laughed again, moving back over to his pile.

Once all of the presents were open, Joyce turned on the TV and the Rankin/Bass Rudolph show was on. The kids all gathered around, Nancy and Jonathan snuggled up on a couch and the two adults retired to the kitchen. Billy was just about to take up a spot on the other couch when Henderson was suddenly coming in through the front door.

Billy hadn’t even clocked him leaving so was more than a little confused when the curly-haired, little nerd started to wave him over.

“Billy!” he hissed like everyone wasn’t staring at him.

“Close the door, Dustin!” Little Wheeler squawked from where he had an arm around El on the floor.

“Billy come out here!” Henderson said again with another wave, his voice still a whisper.

Rolling his eyes, Billy obeyed, knowing better by now than to disobey. Out on the Byers’ front porch, there was a medium-sized gift, wrapped up in paper covered in red and green plaid. Billy cocked his head to one side as Henderson went over to sit on the steps beside the gift.

“Look… I didn’t want to do this in front of everyone…” the younger boy said, patting the wooden porch for Billy to come and join him.

“This is weird Henderson…” Billy observed, still moving over as instructed. Once he was sitting, Henderson picked up the gift and handed it over to him. It was light and soft, like it contained a sweater or something. Maybe his mom had knitted Billy something and he was embarrassed?

“Just… open it now and I’ll explain myself,” he lisped and Billy gave him another curious look.

“Okay…” he started, turning the gift over to examine where the tape was holding it together.

“Please don’t be mad-” Henderson started as Billy hooked his finger under the first flap, pulling it free. “You see… The Thursday before the June Ball, Steve dragged me out to all of these shops,” he explained as Billy ran his finger down the centre join, releasing the fastening there too. “He said you didn’t have a tux for the Ball and he wanted to get you one… It was lame but super sweet, you know?”

As the paper started to give way, Billy could feel the material. This wasn’t wool; this wasn’t a knitted sweater from Mrs Henderson. This was something else; something precious.

“Dustin…” he said as his fingertips seemed to _remember_ the feeling.

“I guess the Harringtons returned both of the suits when they heard- When they got back from wherever they were… I…” Billy pulled the paper apart, his heart stopping in his chest. There it was. “They were reduced. Probably because they’d been worn once, I dunno…” Henderson was babbling, never knowing when to stop talking. “I’m sorry I could only afford the one… Even reduced they were still _stupidly_ expensive…”

“Dustin…” Billy breathed again as his eyes took in the royal blue; the black lapel. This was…

“I figured you’d want _his_ one because… It was _his,_ right?” Dustin carried on, his voice unsure and trembling. Billy was in shock. Looking down at it, there was no mistake: this was Steve’s tux. The one that he’d worn to the June Ball. The one that he’d been wearing on that last, perfect night together. “Maybe I should have gotten your one…” the younger boy hurried, sounding like he was going to snatch the gift back.

“Dustin!” Billy said sharply, looking up at the other boy with tears brimming up in his eyes. His hands clenched around the lux fabric that Steve had worn so well. It felt so precious; like a part of Steve was still here. Like the jacket this morning; Steve was still with him today. “This…” he started, trying to put it all into words. “You have no idea what this…” he tried again but his voice was cracking with emotion. “It’s…” he tried one last time but the understanding was there on the other boy’s face.

“Yeah?” Dustin smiled and Billy could see the shimmer of tears in his eyes too.

“Yeah,” he replied, speaking in ‘yeahs’ the way he and Steve would do so often. “Thank you, Dustin… _Really_. Thank you…” he breathed, eyes casting back down at the tux.

Steve’s tux.

“Well…” Dustin sighed and then clapped his hands together. “Come on! Let’s see what you got me!” he said triumphantly, pulling Billy’s gift out of god-knows where.

“You didn’t open it in there?” Billy asked, looking back up. “Fuck… it’s gunna look so shitty now…”

The younger boy made a quicker job of tearing away the paper than Billy had done. Within three rough tears, the paper was shredded and tossed aside to reveal the Slayer t-shirt that Billy had picked for him. It was one of his old ones but was still in good condition. 

“What…?” he stammered, unfolding it to look at the design.

“You really need to do something about your look, you know. ‘Nerd’ is not, and will never be, _in_ ,” Billy smiled, reaching out to ruffle his hair. Dustin laughed and slapped his hand away.

“Thanks Billy,” he grinned and he really sounded like he meant it.

“No problem, kid,” Billy smiled back. There was a beat in which Billy couldn’t help but look back down again; look back at his newest treasure.

“Hey! You called me Dustin!” the younger boy suddenly piped up.

Rolling his eyes, Billy pushed up off the step and turned to face the front door, tux clutched close to his chest.

“Let’s go back to the others…” he sighed but Dustin was hot on his heels.

“Our friendship has levelled up just now, hasn’t it?” he yapped happily, rushing to stand by Billy’s side. “Like, we’ve just unlocked new features of our bond,”

“Henderson!” Billy snapped, not unkindly.

“Na-ah! No take-backs! You must now only call me Dustin, my dear friend!” the younger boy continued, his excitement real and chasing away any consideration Billy may have had for going into the bathroom for a little cry.

“Jesus…” he sighed but Dustin was still laughing.

“Jesus is also acceptable,” he cheered and Billy rolled his eyes again.

“Tux or not, I _will_ hit you,” he warned, reaching for the door handle.

“Two more level ups before that is permitted, compadre.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing about Christmas in May is HARD!! O_O   
> Who knew?
> 
> ALSO  
> If you wanna know more about the tux, my beta mampysou wrote a little companion piece about the whole shopping thing. Not written by me but I totally see this as part of the Changes canon. ^_^ Go show her some love if that tickles your fancy.   
> With any luck, we old biddies will figure out a way to link the two pieces.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Suits](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24000490) by [mampysou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mampysou/pseuds/mampysou)




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